M
by Sachiie
Summary: A very brief slash between Dorian Gray and the phantom just before the immortal's death.


"But you forget, Gray."   
  
The immortal froze.  
  
"You think you are better than me, but.."  
  
Dorian turned around, nostrils flaring out in anger.  
  
"I have your painting."  
  
The dandy didn't have to watch his superior's face to see the smug expression. The omnious threat had spoken volumes of the power and control the Phantom had over him. Disliking the fact that anyone dared attempt to overpower him, the ancient yet seemingly young man snarled and stalked over to the smirking gentleman sitting so comfortably in his chair.  
  
"Ah, but you forget," purred the immortal in his soft, slightly Irish voice. "You are mortal." A gloved finger slowly extended and slid down the seated man's clothed chest as a dangerous chuckle broke out. "And I could kill you right here if I wished."   
  
Murky brown eyes clashed against a pair of violent blue eyes followed by a laugh of amusement.   
  
"Tell me then, Gray. How do you plan on murdering me?" The seated man grabbed the offensive finger and wrapped his hand around the digit, crushing it.   
  
The antagonized eternal growled and leant forward until his nose all but touched the straight, formal nose of the amused man. Rather than strike the man with fear, this action only provoked his smug countenance to incease. Consequently, this only angered the tiger. With his teeth clenched, Dorian whispered in a deadly tone, "You'll find out soon enough."  
  
Quick as thought, the ever-lasting human pinned the grinning maniac to the back of the velvet covered chair with his iron-like grasp. Smiling unpleasantly, Dorian caught the other man's lower lip in his perfectly white teeth and tugged backwards almost as if his goal were to rip the labrum off.   
  
However, unlike his lovely vampiric friend, Dorian wasn't quite as sadistic as that. Instead he merely ground his pearly whites into the man's flesh enough to break the skin. When the metallic taste of blood touched his tongue, Gray ever so slowly released his prisoner, looking the man straight in the eye. Once seperated, he cocked his head to the side and raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, azure eyes mocking and full of lust.   
  
A moments silence descended as each man reflected what had just happened for the past thirty seconds. Not caring for the slow trickle of blood travelling down his chin, the sitting gentleman leant forward with his fingers stapled together, regarding Gray with the same amused twinkle in his eye when he was discussing business with him.   
  
"I believe I shall, Gray." He paused to chuckle. "However, you will find I have many, many ways of controlling such - ah - dominating ideas and actions." A lazy glance towards a seemingly innocent parcel punctuated his sentence and the effect it had on the immortal evidently represented the value of the object.  
  
Rather than replying, Dorian let out a growl of rage and rose, looking around for an instrument to torture his tormentor with. However, his troublesome host had obviously prepared for any future assault and had removed the majority of harmful objects from the room. Finding only a decorated wooden sword on a nearby table, the immortal decided to just leave the matter be. Years of existence had taught him that in most cases patience always won and although he was angered beyoned insanity, the eternal being knew that playing the waiting game would be to his benefit. He would get his revenge, oh yes, and it would be much, much, much more painful than being skewered on the point of a splintering playtoy.  
  
Nodding curtly to the laughing gentleman, Dorian sauntered out of the room with his chin held up high and his usually pale complexion unusually flushed. Not wishing to dwell on plotting the death of the notorious Phantom, the immortal decided to retire to his bedchamber.   
  
I will kill him soon, he promised himself as he lazily entered the spacious room. It's all a matter of timing.  
  
As these reassuring thoughts went around and around in his head, the eternal happened to spy a watch of the newest fashion. Ever the dandy, Darion picked it up and inspected it with raised eyebrows, admiring the craftsmanship. Just as he was about the pocket the trinket, a low, husky female voice reached his ears.  
  
"Hullo, lover." The words were meant to sting, but he did not fear her. He didn't fear anyone. No one could kill him. No one knew how. A mere attractive ghost from the past would die for her assumptions.  
  
Dorian turned around, and smiled. 


End file.
